Page 85 of Dysfunctional

“I gotta do it again.”

He sighs, but I keep it moving. I have to do another passthrough to make sure it stays closed, trying to move as fast as I can. Once I’m done, I put some gauze over the wound and use some large Band-Aids to keep them in place.

“Okay,” I say. “I have to clean up. We’re gonna have to take the comforter with us. I’ll wash the glass you used, and then I’ll wrap her hand around the knife before I drop it to the floor. Luckily we have time. Nobody will be making their way up here anytime soon, but we have to move your truck and find somewhere else to stay.”

“Quintin,” he says softly.

“You’re gonna be in pain, but we have to move. Do you think you can drive? I’ll follow you into town. We should go before even more snow falls.”

“Quin.”

“What?”

He reaches for my hand. “Thank you.”

I give it a squeeze. “Don’t fucking do that to me again. I can’t exist in a world where you don’t.”

His lips pull up in the corners. “You’re so obsessed with me.”

I lean down and press a kiss to his mouth. “You wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Kaspian

ChapterThirty-Four

The rest of the night flies by. I lie helpless on the floor while Quin runs around cleaning up any of my blood that dripped to the floor. Thankfully they aren’t carpet, assuring the cleanup is an easy task. He uses two thirty-gallon trash bags to secure the comforter before grabbing another one from the linen closet and laying it across the bottom of the bed. He washes the wine glass I drank from before putting it back in the cabinet.

His gloves remained on the entire time, but he still made it a point to wipe down anything I told him I touched. Everything was put back in its place and made to look like Willow came up here alone to drink and take her own life.

Quin took her phone and typed up a message in her notes to really sell the idea. We have at least a week before we have to worry about her being found. The storm is supposed to last another couple days, and it’ll probably be a few days before plows make their way out here. After that, it’ll depend on what her friends decide to do. How long until they alert the police? The silver lining in her trying to lure me up here to kill me is that she likely didn’t tell anyone where she was going.

“Okay, gotta get you to your truck and hope the snow eventually hides the fact that you were parked here to begin with. It’s gonna hurt, but you’ll need to follow me until we get to a hotel. Maybe twenty minutes.”

I nod. “Okay. Help me up.”

With a parting glance at a very pale Willow on the bed, we make our way out of the bedroom and down the stairs where he remembers to re-lock the back door.

“You followed me,” I say as he grabs my shoes and jacket and helps me get them on.

“Of course. You were ignoring me and I found out Willow was friends with one of the girls. I figured you’d find out and do something stupid.”

“She did a good job at pretending she liked me, but it would slip. I’d catch her looking at me like she hated me. When I knew she saw those tapes at Perfectly Convenient, I knew I had to kill her. She would’ve messed up everything for us. I know you’re worried about the police coming around, but—”

“I know. Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”

“The security tapes shouldn’t be a problem soon. They normally keep them from thirty to ninety days. Since Willow saw them, it’s definitely more than thirty, but we should be approaching the retention requirements.”

He pulls the hood over my head. “I said we’ll figure it out.”

Quin gets me and our evidence into my truck, and I thank whatever deity there may be that I got a truck fit for this weather, but it’s still a pain to get through the snow. I stop at the cabin he broke into so he can clean up after himself there. It doesn’t take long before he’s getting into his own truck with another trash bag.

We make our way into the nearest town, thankful that the main roads have been plowed a little. Quin pulls into a hotel and disappears inside before running back out to my window.

“No vacancy. Next one is a few miles down. Don’t use your phone. Just follow me.”

When we approach the next hotel, he keeps driving. This place is ripe with resorts and inns, but he’s clearly looking for a specific type. My side burns and throbs, but I breathe through the pain until he pulls into a small place.

When he returns to my car, he sighs. “Okay, we’re gonna be here. It’s the only place that gives us our own little townhouse and we don’t have to see other guests or be in huge resorts with a million cameras. It’s around the corner. Follow me.”

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